


frío

by Akane21



Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, One Shot, figure skating
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-16
Updated: 2020-02-16
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:08:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22745317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Akane21/pseuds/Akane21
Summary: Every time Madara goes out on the ice, the whole world seems to go still.
Relationships: Senju Hashirama/Uchiha Madara
Comments: 4
Kudos: 43





	frío

Every time Madara goes out on the ice, the whole world seems to go still.

People in the audience, every sound; even the noisy office—at times when Hashirama only sees Madara on the screen—goes quiet, and all the concerns become so insignificant.

Hashirama can’t be on each championship, but he always watches them all.

On the ice rink, Madara transforms—it’s as if he opens up, throwing off his usual mask of detachment. His moves are full of passion and sincerity, and it’s impossible not to feel the same fire rising inside while looking at him.

Hashirama wouldn’t tell a toe loop from a salchow—to be honest, it’s all so foreign to him—but he feels his heart skip a beat, amazed and slightly afraid, each time Madara’s feet leave the ice; and he tries to count the turns, almost never succeeding.

In the rare moments when another jump ends with a fall, Hashirama feels as though his own heart sinks down.

But Madara always gets up, stubbornly continuing his dance—he’s always found this word funny, but Hashirama can’t find a more fitting one—and it doesn’t matter what his final score will be.

In Hashirama’s eyes—he always wins.

They don’t always manage to meet right after; Madara’s trainer is waiting for him, not to mention the reporters.

But when they do, Hashirama hugs him tightly, unable to keep from smiling, says how amazing his performance was this time.

Madara snorts, waves him off and tells him to try and come up with something new for once.

But what can Hashirama do, really, when it’s the truth.

Madara doesn’t like being too open.

Whenever he’s asked about his personal life, his replies are dry and evasive—though there are still rumors: after Hashirama once impulsively embraced him in front of the cameras.

Sometimes he feels so happy that he wants to shout about his—their—happiness to the whole world, and to kiss Madara right in front of those cameras; but Madara keeps saying it’s not the right time yet, and Hashirama respects his wish.

They’re together, after all; isn’t this what matters most?

It’s late evening, and there’s no one at the rink—a rare luck, really.

Hashirama isn’t afraid to appear funny or awkward; but he’s glad that it’s only him and Madara here—after not having seen each other for so long.

“It’s not as difficult as it seems.”

Hashirama takes a first uncertain step—and his feet immediately slide apart. It’s unusual without a proper support; he feels like he’s going to fall.

But then Madara holds his hands firmly.

He looks at him, chuckling, but there’s such warmth in his eyes; Hashirama can’t look away.

Madara skates back a little, dragging him along—it’s still so weird, but Hashirama manages to stay on his feet. Mostly thanks to Madara, of course.

The ice sparkles in the faint light, frosty air burns his mouth with each breath, and there’s a soft smirk on Madara’s lips; and gradually, Hashirama forgets about everything else.

They circle slowly on the ice—well, it’s Madara leading him, Hashirama only tries not to fall, gripping his hands; and they seem to be closer than ever now.

Hashirama has always admired Madara—but he probably never really understood what he feels while dancing on ice.

And Hashirama is far from a professional skater—laughable, really—but he feels so... free now.

He doesn’t need to think of anything or fear anything, be it others’ judgment or his own mistakes.

Hashirama leans closer to Madara but misses with the kiss, only brushing his lips over his cheek; and Madara chuckles with this familiar expression— _what an idiot you are, Senju_.

Madara lets go of his hands, skating to the side, “Now try it without me.”

Hashirama tries.

He really, honestly tries his best.

And, of course, he fails. He falls onto Madara, grabbing his shoulders in an attempt to keep his balance—and they both fall down on the ice.

The landing knocks the air out of their lungs, and for a while, they just lie there, staring at each other.

And then they laugh.

Madara rarely laughs—as in actually laughing, not simply chuckling at something; and Hashirama loves his laughter. He loves it when Madara lets himself be more open; and the fact that only Hashirama sees him like this.

Madara runs his fingers along Hashirama’s cheek unusually tenderly; and his hands are so cold.

But his lips are warm when Hashirama finally kisses him.

“You’re impossible, Senju,” Madara says as he gets up and helps him on his feet.

Hashirama smiles back, “Well, I can’t be perfect at everything.”

And thinks, _probably only you can._

They go back slowly, talking about everything and nothing, about some little things, not saying the most important thing out loud, but seeing it in each other’s eyes.

And even though Madara—as always—keeps grumbling and frowning, he doesn’t let go of Hashirama’s hand.

So he can keep him warm.


End file.
